Grace gets lost in her imagination!
by eaturheartout
Summary: Couldn't resist- I got inspired! 2 new chapters tonight :
1. Chapter 1

Warner Bros. Television and Bruno Heller own all characters and The Mentalist.

I got inspired after watching a re-run of Red Sauce and Rigsby in THAT outfit.

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Grace chewed her pen absently. Her thoughts were elsewhere, tied up in images of a muscle-bound, mafia-esque Rigsby coming to her home to ravish her. To walk in, pick her up and take her to the nearest wall. Hands held high above her head, forced onto the tips of her toes to maintain contact with the ground as he moulds his free hand to her covered breast, his eyes boring into hers.

Strangely, her imaginings never included a kiss. Something so private and intimate; and something so willingly given in public once. Twice, counting the first approach in the mens' room.

She was lost, mind filled with memories of the tight white t-shirt and black pants that clung to his firm, high backside. She could feel the hardness in his arms, the strength as they lifted her and pulled her legs around his slim waist. In the fantasy she closed her eyes, thinking of his warmth, his power, his hot desire for her. She could smell it.

What?

She blinked and her eyes focused, the pen-chewing stopping momentarily. The office lights were down low, silence all around. Everyone had clearly left for the evening. She could still smell it, the heated, masculine smell that she knew was his.

She started to turn her head and two large hands reached from behind her and took her wrists in a firm grip. She recognised the hands, and her breath caught in her throat, her pulse sped.

Lips at her throat, a tongue darting out and flicking at the beating point on her neck. She shivered and tilted her neck to grant him access. He laughed softly, the sound travelling through his chest and on into her own body.

She pulled her hands from the desk and turned her chair to face him.

He still wore the sweats and t-shirt, his dark jacket slung over his chair. To add to the look, his eyes were dark, certain of her desire for him. She stood and reached to kiss him but he shook his head. He wanted to kiss her, but first he owed her so much more.

Reaching down he stroked up her thighs as far as he could decently reach. Watching her eyes he pushed further, hands bunching her skirt as he swept them agonisingly slow upwards. Instead of heading for her centre as she expected, Rigsby crept his fingers to the side. Only a smirk and a slight crinkling of his eyes betrayed what he was going to do and she opened her mouth to protest as he pulled at her underwear, ripping it from her. The material tore slowly, a languid, sexy sound echoing around the room.

Pushing her gently back to sit on her desk he drew her arms behind her. A soft 'click' and she was trapped in his handcuffs.

He put his finger to her lips, shushing the words she had started to form and nodding to the corridor outside. Although the blinds were closed she could see the outline of the security guard walking past. Her eyes widened and he grinned.

Kneeling at her feet, he began his slow torment. He would have her scream his name tonight.

His kisses were gentle at first, interspersed with a flicking tongue and hot breath as he worked his way up her leg. When he reached her knee though, he experimentally nibbled at the supple flesh of her thigh. She gasped and he nibbled harder, scraping teeth along her skin. Her hips bucked on the desk and he rumbled his appreciation, noting the reaction for later.

By the time he had completed his upward torment of her thighs, Grace was biting her lip with dark, hungry eyes.

His hands moved to the inside of her thighs and pushed them wider. The simple movement left her more vulnerable than she had ever felt and she fought to close them.

"Oh no you don't," he smiled, head resting on her thigh and looking up at her.

His head lifted and seconds later his tongue was smoothing over her soft, wet centre. She bucked again but his hands held her, and this new instrument of torture was lapping gently at her clit.

Her mind was in turmoil. She was at work. _At work!_ And here was the man of her sordid daydreams holding her prisoner on her own desk. She watched him through half-lidded eyes, closing as she recalled her dream from earlier. His large hands holding her, his huge weight pinning her, that deep voice coaxing her with sweet obscenities and she came against his mouth, rotating her hips and arching backwards over her papers.

Her body floated back down to her and she winced as she felt the handcuffs digging into her lower back. Her dangerous teddy-bear was up on his feet, eyes sparkling and reaching for her, pulling her skirt down.

"Come on, we have to leave... that was a little too loud for security to ignore!"

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Reviews are welcome, as is Wayne Rigsby. Yummy!


	2. Chapter 2

Warner Bros. Television and Bruno Heller own all characters and The Mentalist.

More you say? More!

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Her dreams were going to ruin her sheets at this rate. Hot, sweaty and more than a little turned on, Grace embraced the memories of that last beautiful dream.

There had been laughing as they sat in the car, the beginnings of a kiss before Wayne had gently pushed himself away from her and with a heated glance towards his passenger, started the vehicle.

Her hands had not stayed still and although her body was restrained by the seat belt she eagerly snaked her hand across to the driver's side and inched her fingers across his upper thigh. The muscle underneath twitched, and Wayne had gripped the wheel firmly as he shot a steely look at her. Her eyes were wide, sparkling with laughter as she had reached further; far enough to grip his hardness through the fabric of his pants.

His breath came out in a small gasp and the car lurched violently to the right. Grace snapped her eyes forward to watch as the car swung onto a small lane off the highway. The trees were high and the street lamps had soon run out as they continued.

The car screeched to a halt in a lay-by and her seat belt was thrown off by an impatient Wayne. Before Grace had time to breathe she was pulled firmly into his lap, her backside against the steering wheel. One click and the seat flew back, his hand firmly at the back of her head as he guided her down towards him for a kiss.

The kiss wasn't gentle; nor was the hand at her hip pushing her down, grinding her into his lap. Without the barrier of her underwear she could feel his excitement thrusting upwards in a simulation of what she wanted to be doing. Sighing, she rolled her hips over him, causing a delicious friction. The feeling was obviously mutual, as his hips pushed further upwards in response.

Her hands loosened his tie, pulled at his shirt; unwilling to wait for the controlled action of unbuttoning his shirt they ripped the sides apart to expose a broad and muscular torso. Trilling in glee she ran her hands over him, thanking his exercise and job for negating the effects of his huge appetite.

He, for his part, had not been idle. Matching the enthusiasm Grace had had in undressing him, he had marvelled at the smoothness of her thighs as he once again stroked up them, the supple roundness of her arse as he slid his hands over her cheeks and squeezed.

He was not at all surprised therefore, when she had reached down and freed him from the constraints of his pants.

He was, however, extremely surprised when she took his hands in hers and held them above his head as she once again attacked his mouth. The discarded tie had been wound around his wrists and before he had focused on what she was doing his wrists had been bound firmly to the hand rail above the door. He pulled against the restraint, chest arching fruitlessly as Grace leaned back to admire her work.

Her mouth descended, working swiftly across a hardened chest, tongue laving attention down his stomach until her chin brushed evidence of his excitement. Licking her lips and glancing up at him she flicked her tongue across the head before swallowing him. She tried to get as much as possible into her mouth, but realised that with the length and breadth under her tongue she would need a little more practice. Reluctantly she let him slide from her lips and stroked her hands down his now slippery cock. Replacing her mouth at the head she began to use her hands and tongue to build an agonising rhythm.

Daring to look up she felt a deep throb within her own body as she reacted to his gaze. Half-wild, eyes wide and mouth uttering unheard profanities she laughed at her own power over him. The vibration travelled through her throat and he bucked upwards with a loud groan.

Wayne couldn't believe his eyes, touch or luck. He also knew that unless she let up sometime soon he would be spilling down her throat, and with that thought came the verbal warning. She ignored him, drawing up once more and smiling at him before renewing her attentions with even more vigour.

His cursing grew louder and more explicit as he recited a repertoire of words Grace didn't even think he knew, until the final call of her name and wetness down her throat signalled the peak and end. She had continued to stroke him gently with her tongue until he struggled slightly and begged her to stop.

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So what do you think? Reviews are encouragement for my dirty, devilish mind!


	3. Chapter 3

Warner Bros. Television and Bruno Heller own all characters and The Mentalist.

Smut is so- filthily great. So is Wayne Rigsby!

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Grace giggled softly as she remembered the car journey afterwards. More than once she had caught him staring at her wide-eyed as he drove, and she had to direct his eyes back to the road.

Her own eyes stayed closed as she recalled the gentle, hesitant start to their lovemaking.

They had arrived at Rigsby's flat soon enough and were both silent as he unlocked the front door. She didn't get to see the hallway as he lead her through the dark to his bedroom. He left her at the bedroom door as he walked to the bed and flicked a switch overhead, partly illuminating the room with a soft glow.

He turned to her as she walked towards him, matched her speed as he met her. His fingers stroked either side of her jaw as he asked the inevitable. "Are you sure?"

She had given no reply, instead choosing to mirror his hands on his own face and stretch up to kiss him. She drew back and watched as the smile grew on his lips, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. He leaned down for another as his hands slid down her neck, over her shoulders and around her back. Drawing her backwards with him he had fallen on the bed, cradling her to him until they were both horizontal.

Flashing her a predatory grin he moved quickly, pushing her jacket from her shoulders, peeling her shirt from her arms as he covered as much revealed skin as possible with his large hands. She for her part was hampered by the clothes; however as soon as the shirt slid off her wrists she attacked him, playfully pinning his hands above his head with one hand as she unpicked the buttons of his shirt with the other. They both knew he could easily move his hands but for the moment the illusion was fun.

Garments were strewn across the floor until the two lay naked, entwined to get as much skin contact as possible. Grace stroked her hands down a broad, hard chest and flicked a tight nipple with her tongue. Wayne smoothed his hands across a soft-skinned back, rounded hips and the most delicious arse he had ever felt.

Using his grip on that same part, Wayne rolled them until Grace straddled him, his hot and heavy firmness pressing against her stomach. Lifting her and angling his hips, he stroked the head against her clitoris and a soft sigh escaped her lips. He repeated it a few more times and then pulled her towards him until he rested against her entrance. Once in, he knew his control would be hard to maintain so he had taken a moment to look at her, this goddess sat astride him with her proud breasts, ruffled red hair and curves, before moving to enter her.

Her eyes had fluttered closed as he slid into her and her head dropped backwards as he filled her.

Their movements were slow, controlled, enjoying the sensations as they rocked together. His hands had splayed across her hips, spilled upwards to cup her breasts and she had marvelled at the perfection of their fit in his palms.


	4. Chapter 4

Warner Bros. Television and Bruno Heller own all characters and The Mentalist.

Small hiatus, but back for a teensy one :)

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Wayne Rigsby usually woke up where he expected to and in the same manner; in his bed with a raging hard-on from dreams of a certain red-headed agent.

This morning though, as the sunlight filtered through his dark lashes he was confused. The light was ethereal and dusky, the scent in the air was of lilacs and fresh sex, and the sounds were certainly not from his CBI issued handset.

His eyes focused on the sleeping woman in front of him, one arm loosely curled around her stomach, his other buried under a spread of red waves and his leg resting across a warm thigh. She was breathing heavily in her doze, little moans escaping her lips. Wayne smiled, inching his hand further down her stomach, the smile turning to a smirk as he encountered another hand, softer and lighter, on the same journey.

Pulling gently with his upper leg he rolled her towards him, supporting her body as she moved onto her back and positioning her half on his own chest. The hand that was travelling south paused, and Wayne took the opportunity to re-direct it to trace lazily around her own breast. His own hand returned to the original task, and he marvelled as her legs spread for him even in her sleep.

His cock hardened against her arse as she responded to his feather light caress and he watched as her hips ground themselves back against him. His eyes moved up her body to watch her fingertips brush her nipple, and travelled further to see her teeth capture her bottom lip in pleasure. His breath hitched and he ground himself more firmly against her, sliding himself easily between her thighs until he nudged her entrance.

Unwilling to deny himself the pleasure of watching her as they joined he snaked his arm around her shoulders to gently squeeze at her free breast, flicking his tongue gently across the soft skin behind her ear.

Her eyes remained closed but a soft whimper rolled from her. "Fuck me Wayne, please..."

He moved his hand to her hip and pushed himself into her heat, marvelling once again at the perfect, tight state of her body.

"Oh God Grace, you're... so... fucking... tight!" he punctuated each gentle thrust. The reply was incoherent, breathy gasps and sighs that he already knew and loved. He moved his hand from her hip, slipping down to grip the inside of her thigh and pulled her leg back further over his own.

"Touch yourself Grace, let me see" he murmured into her hair, glancing down to see her fingers execute his order immediately. Her breathy sighs began to grow into loud gasps of his name and encouragement, and he continued to thrust as she tightened around him, hips rotating and grinding over him as she worked herself closer.

It only took a few seconds more before her body stiffened, breathing froze and walls fluttered around him as she came. Her body held him immobile inside her as he tried to move, tried to prolong their pleasure. After a lifetime he was able to move again, thrusting harder into her willing warmth. She turned slightly in his embrace, wrapped her arm around him and ran her nails through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Breaking it, she smiled up at him.

"Good morning Agent..."

"Good morning to you" he smiled, pushing deeper inside her. Reaching once again for her lips he probed between perfect teeth to twist around her tongue.

Satisfied that he was distracted, she rolled further on top so that he supported all of her weight. Turning her legs underneath her she rose up off him slightly, giving him the freedom to thrust up into her with more force. Pulling his hands from her hips she moulded them to her own breasts, revelling in the possessive nature of his touch and matching his greed for her in her own explorations of his hips as they moved and bicep beside her.

His breathing was ragged, her name fell from his lips alternated with profanities, declarations of love for her body and gratitude for her love of his. As he closed in on his own orgasm he abandoned one nipple and roughly rolled her clit between his fingers, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold off for one... more... delicious... minute...

His orgasm exploded in a roar of satisfaction and an uncontrolled, deep drive upwards; the sensation of him spilling deep inside her and pressing her down towards him through her centre drove Grace back off the edge into a black, star-filled abyss and she echoed his roar in a scream of his name above him.

The lovers curled to one side, Wayne still buried to the hilt inside the woman he loved and lost in the scent of her hair, Grace at peace and unaware that within a few hours she would be carrying a CBI child...


End file.
